Retirement clubs are strange places, like little utopias for the old and wealthy,

sanctuaries where they can retreat behind a gate and exist in their own paradise.

Personally, I'm not a fan, and if you listen to Part 1, you know why.

But also, when you grow old, I think it's important not to hide away.

It's best to surround yourself with people from all generations.

Keeps you youthful in a way.

But at Harmony Poems, something was keeping the residents actually young. And a long time ago, I had the unfortunate experience of finding out how.

If you're just joining this saga, do yourself a favor and start from the top.

You don't want to miss the details.

For the rest of you, let me remind you of how we got here.

I was 18, aimless, and on the verge of graduating high school, Let me remind you of how we got here.

I was 18, aimless, and on the verge of graduating high school when I got a call from an

old auntie, Ms. Eloise DeVall, aka Miss Sis.

Eloise and I had been close when I was young, but as I grew up, she moved away to a fancy retirement community.

I'd hardly heard from her in years when she called to tell me I'd won a big scholarship sponsorship from her club.

That's right, Harmony Palms.

Which is how I ended up in the Arizona desert drinking Arnold Palmer's with Eloise

and her aggressively welcoming community

of senior citizens.

And while I was there, well, I encountered some weird stuff.

I saw a man get into a swimming pool old and emerge years younger.

I discovered the club president hadn't aged in decades.

...